


moored

by jirin



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jirin/pseuds/jirin
Summary: "I can’t help it.” Another kiss pressed against Ja'far's neck, near the base of his shoulder. Sinbad’s lips were a warm flutter against his skin. “Missed you too much. Let me take care of my dutiful and boring advisor tonight."Ja'far comes back after a mission, fully intending to enjoy his bath alone, but it seems Sinbad has other plans.
Relationships: Jafar/Sinbad (Magi)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	moored

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



> Hi giftee! I hope you enjoy the fic. From your prompt, I went with _Kisses - pressed against the back of the neck and/or along bare/mostly-bare shoulders_ , for one of my favourite king and right-hand ships. Hope you enjoy!!

"Does it hurt?"

Ja'far turned at the voice, water lapping at the stone edge of the bath with the motion and spilling over onto the tiled floor. He frowned slightly. Nobody should be up this late at night, save for the evening guard.

But there was Sinbad, watching him calmly from beneath the marble archway stretching over the entrance to the bath house, as though it were perfectly normal to be wandering around the palace long past midnight.

"Does what hurt?" Ja'far asked mildly. Then added, a little more pointedly, "I was going to bring you my report at dawn."

“What? Oh, don’t worry about it. I meant the cut around your shoulder.”

Sinbad made his way across the bath house floor, entirely nonplussed with how the wet tiles would likely soak through his shoes, and Ja’far held back a sigh. He leaned back against the ledge instead, mourning the inevitable loss of his short-lived peace and quiet. Rare were the opportunities that he had to enjoy such privacy, and even rarer still were the times that he could let himself relax enough to indulge in it.

Really, he should know better than to hope that Sinbad would take a hint.

"There's a reason I was bathing alone, Sin," he told him wearily.

"Nonsense.” Sinbad stripped off his robes, carelessly draping them over a nearby ornate table. He eased into the bath close to Ja’far, despite the generous length of its stone ledge. Each step sent another ripple out across the water. “Baths are far better with excellent company."

Ja’far lifted one of his hands to the surface, breaking the tiny waves that came his way. He watched as steam rose faintly from the tips of his fingers, where they were exposed in the air. “By which you mean yourself, I presume?”

Sinbad’s lips quirked up in a smile, as he settled into the water beside him. “But of course. Now, let me take a look?”

With a half-hearted exhale, Ja’far twisted around, letting Sinbad inspect the cut on his shoulder. Even if it wasn’t bleeding anymore, he could still feel the throbbing ache of it and had no doubt it must look raw and painful. Earlier, he’d dropped the healing salts that Yamuraiha left him into the bath. The tiny granules dissipated rapidly, spreading a faint glow throughout the hot water. He’d only had a few minutes to soak before Sinbad interrupted him, but the salts were already doing wonders for the minor scrapes and bruises, not to mention the faint ache in his joints.

Ja’far closed his eyes. He felt tired, more weary than expected.

"You don't usually let them get close enough to land a hit," Sinbad remarked, his fingers gentle over the edges of the wound.

An uncomfortable prickle accompanied the touch, ghosting the brush of Sinbad’s fingers. Ja'far resisted the instinctive urge to twitch away. It was a lesson he learnt long ago—to hide when injured, retreat into the safety of a lonely, ramshackle hide-out to lick his wounds himself. Letting others draw close enough to see him when like this, let alone _touch_ him, would have been unthinkable.

"He had backup that I failed to take proper notice of. It won't happen again," Ja'far replied, eyes still closed. Really, it shouldn't have happened in the first place, and that annoyed him.

"You must be getting old," Sinbad chided. "Maybe I should stop sending you on these missions, hmm? Just let you be a regular paper pusher. Ah, I assume these waters are treated?"

Ja'far nodded, bracing as he heard the faint splash behind him. But there was no helping a wince, when he felt Sinbad carefully pour water over the wound. The healing salts stung with a fierce sharpness that sunk under his skin like sharp claws, before vanishing, lifting some of the ache as it did. Sinbad’s hands lingered on his shoulders, squeezing lightly while avoiding the wound. A gentle press urged him down, and he let himself be eased deeper until the warm water drew up against his neck.

"Target eliminated, in case you were wondering,” Ja’far added, after a moment’s pause. His chin touched the water’s surface as he talked. “Three casualties in total, but no sign of the documents when I ransacked his room later. I left the scene looking like a regular robbery, so there shouldn’t be any suspicions on their side."

"Ah, good job. I'll have to consider our next move in tomorrow's meeting then."

Ja'far hummed in agreement, opening his eyes. The sting was slowly dulling down into a faint throb now, and he wriggled his toes experimentally. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked, turning his head slightly so he could glance at Sinbad out of the corner of his eye.

Sinbad tilted his head in response, wearing a half-smile. His hair pooled around him in wet tangles, clinging to his bare chest. "Nope," came the reply, almost cheerfully. "I did the paperwork you set me, and then some. I should probably get a reward for that actually, I've never had a day that dull before."

"Manage to do that every other day, _then_ we can start negotiating."

"Oh? What are you proposing?" Within a split second, Sinbad had that familiar gleam in his eye—the one Ja'far associated with promptly getting dragged into one ridiculous circumstance or another.

Ja’far pursed his lips. “On second thought, nevermind."

“Ah, what a shame.” Sinbad sounded amused, as if he’d heard Ja’far’s thoughts. “Come to my bed tonight, at least?”

If nothing else, Ja’far thought dryly, Sinbad was incorrigible. He shook his head. “I’ve no intention of sleeping with you tonight, Sin.”

"In which sense?"

"Every imaginable way.”

"So stingy." Sinbad shifted closer, warm water sloshing between them as he drew close enough for Ja’far to feel the heat of his body against his back. His palms slid up Ja’far’s neck, gliding easily over wet skin as he began to gently rub out the remaining tension in the muscles there. "Indulge me? I've missed having you nag me, you know."

"You hardly need me in your bed to do that," Ja'far pointed out, even as he tipped his head forward, giving Sinbad more space to work. The firm pressure, the consistent stroke of Sinbad’s fingers—it felt _good_ , enough to send a faint shiver down his spine.

"I do need you though. Come on, let me hold you tonight and you can go back to being my grumpy advisor tomorrow."

Ja’far felt the corner of his mouth twitch with a slight smile. "You can't have missed me that much, surely,” he replied. He'd only been gone four days after all; nothing compared to his usual diplomatic missions that would last months at a time.

"Well, last night I had to lie in bed wondering if your old age had finally caught up with you and made you an easy target. You can't blame me for pining a little."

"I do hope you remember that if I'm getting old, you most certainly must be ancient—"

"Nonsense! Look at me, I'm as fit and spry as any other young thing."

Ja’far resisted the urge to roll his eyes, tamping down on the amusement that threatened his reproachful look. "I'm starting to doubt how much paperwork you actually managed to get done, if you’ve had enough time to pine like a lovesick youth."

"See for yourself,” Sinbad said in protest. “There is an enormous pile of it sitting on your desk, awaiting approval."

Ja’far let out a pleased sigh, despite himself. "I assure you, I’m looking forward to it.”

"Of course you would," Sinbad said fondly. One more squeeze to his shoulders, then Sinbad’s hands dropped into the water, tracing down his back and coming to rest at his waist. The grip was light, careless, but there was a warm, lazy promise in them all the same. "So, come to bed with me? I promise I'll behave. My very best behaviour."

“Propositioning me this insistently,” Ja’far sighed, leaning back further against Sinbad’s chest. “It’s rather inappropriate, isn’t it? Even for your Majesty.”

As expected, Sinbad’s hands fell still at the title. Ja’far could imagine the look on his face; eyebrow raised, slightly incredulous, and most certainly amused. "You never pull that card when you're the one pawing at me."

"Well, of course not.” Ja’far let out a snort. “That would be disadvantageous to what I want."

"You can't pull it now then."

"It _suits_ me to pull it now."

At that, one of Sinbad's arms snaked around Ja’far’s stomach, pulling tight. With an undignified yelp, Ja’far found himself awkwardly yanked onto Sinbad’s lap, arms reaching down to grab at Sinbad’s thighs for balance. Water lapped over the edge of the bath, splashing onto the tiled floor.

Like this, Ja'far could feel the press of Sinbad's half hard length against the small of his back, as Sinbad lowered his head to murmur, altogether too close to Ja’far’s ear, "So what do I have to do to convince you otherwise?"

Warm lips pressed gently to the side of his neck, trailing soft kisses down to his shoulder. Very distracting, Ja'far thought, even as he let his head fall back against Sinbad. He stared up at the high ceilings of the bath house, watching the way the pale steam drifted up and dissipated against the mosaic tiles.

"I do believe I said something about impropriety,” he replied, though it was half-hearted at best, with the way he let Sinbad continue to kiss and mouth at his neck. He used to be more firm about these sorts of things, more annoyed when Sinbad insisted on blurring the lines in their relationship. These days, it felt more like a dance between them; each light step, each twist and turn, shifting into something more practiced and familiar, almost teasing. “And you said something about behaving, which I am feeling somewhat disinclined to believe right now."

"I can’t help it.” Another kiss pressed against his neck, near the base of his shoulder. Sinbad’s lips were a warm flutter against his skin. “Missed you too much. Let me take care of my dutiful and boring advisor tonight."

"You of all people should know I don't need taking care of,” Ja’far replied. He stifled a shudder, as Sinbad bit down lightly at the nape of his neck. "Certainly not in the way you seem to be suggesting, either."

"Nonetheless, I appreciate when you accept my care.” Sinbad drew back, and Ja’far felt a finger trace down the sensitive skin near the wound on his shoulder. “Your wound seems to be closing up already. Yamuraiha’s healing salts continue to work their magic, I see.”

"Yes, I'll have to thank her later." Ja'far sat up, twisting around and peering at the wound to see for himself. "I’m lucky it wasn't deep to begin with."

"Another scar to your collection," Sinbad said mildly. His fingers massage carefully over the area, but the skin still felt raw and tender enough to have Ja'far tensing up. "Does it bother you?"

"The wound?” Ja’far shook his head. “No. It's sensitive, but not painful—"

"Having scars, I mean."

Ja’far paused. "I'm in the wrong line of work if that sort of thing bothered me," he said wryly.

It was true though, and he resisted the urge to look down at himself. His body was littered with scars, old and new. Some larger than others. Some deeper. Some probably with painful memories if he were ever inclined to let himself dwell on them for too long.

Ja’far felt Sinbad's hands glide down his back again, past his hips and down to his legs, brushing over his thighs and soothing over the thick scar tissue that ran down the inside of each leg. The skin was puckered there, twisted indents from the shoddy stitching he'd managed while half delirious from fever and bloodloss. When he thought back at the way his hands had shaken, suture thread slipping from the needle with every other stitch, it was a wonder that they held and ended up healing.

He’d been more ruthless then, Ja’far thought idly, before Sinbad took him in. Perhaps it was little wonder he ended up with so many scars.

Sinbad never brought them up though, for all the times he’d spread Ja'far's legs and had his way between them. Whether it was out of politeness or disinterest, Ja'far wasn’t quite sure, but he appreciated not having had them brought to attention before. But now, he squirmed a little under the intensity of Sinbad's focus, and the push and drag of his fingers through the water.

"Does it bother you?" Ja'far braced his own palms on Sinbad's thighs, letting his hands linger. Unlike his own, Sinbad's thighs were all smooth golden skin and firm muscle, the inside of his thighs soft where the skin was thinner.

"Not at all," Sinbad replied almost immediately. His grip on Ja'far tightened almost imperceptibly. "I think your legs are lovely. As lovely as the rest of you."

Ja’far blinked. Then huffed a laugh. "Romantic," he said, rolling his eyes.

Perhaps, he decided, Sinbad had been well-behaved enough. He turned, brushing Sinbad’s hands away so he could straddle him properly. There was surprise in Sinbad’s eyes, widening just slightly before it flickered into the light of realisation, as Ja’far slung his arms around Sinbad’s broad shoulders, and kissed him, slow and languid.

“Here? Or the bedroom?” Ja’far asked, when they parted for air. He was breathing faster, arousal finally beginning to stir and pool like liquid heat lower in his stomach.

He felt Sinbad’s answering smile against his lips, just before he felt the arms around his waist, pulling him close.

“Here is good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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